Hit The Roof
by Golden Snowflake
Summary: All he wanted was a little respect ... but his indiscretion will result in a far different outcome. A response to a 100-prompt challenge.
1. Lock

One/Lock

* * *

It was cold here, in this land of half-reality. The trees were frosted with snow so ancient that their branches, if ever thawed, would bear the patterns of the thousands of ice crystals for all of eternity. The air hung, suspended; cold and dry and thick with magic fifteen thousand years in the making.

The handle was heavy and smooth in Jack's hand, the unmarked rod sliding easily into the lock. The size of the majestic and ornate double-doors would have been enough to send a shudder of awe down anyone's spine, although the conceited teen was far too preoccupied with retrieving his prize to acknowledge the beauty of a bygone era. He offered a suspicious glance to the shadows behind him before tightening his pale-fingered grip on the relic in his hand.

"Yincang Key," Spicer hissed mutedly.

The handle illuminated his calloused fingertips as the familiar thrum of Xiaolin magic pulsed down his wrist. The rod twitched within the lock, its form contorting and snapping into hundreds of combinations of shapes until it fit every mechanism. Jack turned the Key, and with a powerful, ancient sort of _clack,_ the door popped open by a millimeter. Spicer retracted the instrument, now smooth and rounded once again, slinging it in one of the pockets of his trench coat. He gripped the brassy handle and tugged, and when it refused to yield, Jack gritted his teeth and _pulled_.

The door swung sluggishly open with a groan that shook the ground beneath his boots. Jack gulped and frowned to hide his unease before wrapping his arms around himself against the chill of the icy mist wafting through the doorway.

With a final, contemptuous glance behind him, he stepped through.


	2. Papercut

Two/Papercut

* * *

"Dammit!"

Master Fung's eyes narrowed but he said nothing. Raimundo rounded on himself to stalk back to the other end of the hall.

"I _told_ you to leave it be," the petite Japanese girl exclaimed, crossing her arms and leveling an icy stare at her leader. "But do you ever listen to me? Nooo."

The Brazilian whipped around, his fingers balling into fists. "Ugh. You're such a _girl_. Yelling at me isn't going to do anything now!"

"I think Kimiko's just sayin' that we need to get our priorities straightened out," Clay offered, not moving from his place on the sidelines of the small-scale battle.

"And how is being right being 'such a girl'?"

Raimundo ignored Clay's non-combative input to sneer at the Dragon of Fire. "It's completely typical of women not to offer any advice when it counts and to give men crap about it later!"

"I'm telling you now and I TOLD YOU THEN: just because you're the leader doesn't mean you get to strut around acting like you're the only one that matters!"

"It is not Kimiko's fault that she is the stereotypical nagging female," Omi said softly. The black-haired girl turned to glare at him, earning a smirk from the Brazilian across the room.

"There is nothing _nagging_ about telling him to find a Band-Aid AFTER we find the Shen Gong Wu!"

"Kimiko has a point, fellas."

"You _don't_ have to stick up for me. I can defend myself."

The Texan's face darkened in hurt as the girl turned back to shout at the Dragon of Wind.

"It's _over,_ Kim, I screwed up. What_ever_."

"Enough," Fung rasped, stepping from the doorway and under the dim lamplight.

"It's not whatever! How can you be so-"

"ENOUGH."

Four pairs of eyes flashed to their teacher, Kimiko standing straight and Raimundo unclenching his fists.

"The Pendant Linghui itself is not destructive enough to give Jack any power of immediate consequence. What _is_ of consequence is your inability to overcome your own petty conflicts long enough to combat the Heylin side." Omi visibly wilted as Raimundo looked at his feet. "I am gravely disappointed in you. Particularly _you,_ Raimundo. Surely such a minor injury doesn't outweigh the retrieval of a Shen Gong Wu."

"Hey, man, it was a papercut! Those things really _hurt!_"

The monk narrowed his piercing blue eyes at his student, and Raimundo shrank back immediately in embarrassment.

"Your fellow Dragons-in-training look up to you, Raimundo. Seeing you falter in your focus is disheartening, especially to Kimiko, it would seem." The Japanese girl looked away hastily to avoid the stares from the rest of the group, swallowing at the feeling of heat rising to her cheeks. "Until you reclaim your spirit of teamwork, all searching for the Shen Gong Wu is on hold." The man continued to talk over the small gasps of disbelief. "Only when you learn to put your quest ahead of trivialities will you be permitted to resume your duties as Xiaolin warriors."

The elder swept silently past the four and disappeared into the courtyard, leaving Raimundo and Kimiko facing each other and Clay and Omi against the wall, just out of the light's reach.

The slender Brazilian swallowed twice, opening his mouth and then hesitating. When he spoke his voice cracked.

"I'm sorry, guys. I was being really childish this morning. I acted like my stupid finger was more important than us getting the pendant thing and it wasn't."

"Apology accepted, pardner." Omi smiled weakly and nodded from beside the cowboy.

"Yelling at you isn't going to help anything," Kimiko murmured, not meeting her counterpart's dark-green gaze. "You knew it before I said anything. I'm really sorry, Rai."

The boy's expression softened, one big hand coming up to rub his bicep sheepishly. "It's okay, Kimiko. You _were_ right."

"We must begin to strengthen our teamwork as soon as possible," Omi contributed, calling the three stares to his tiny form. "At dawn we should begin our training."

The monk's companions nodded in unison as a cloud covered the moon, turning the doorway to black and making the temple seem much smaller.

"Dojo said the Linghui Pendant allows the user to find their inner focus," Clay mused. "That'd do Jack a world of good if ya ask me."

"It'll even the stakes," Raimundo said with a smile, tucking his hands in his pockets. "We won't have to feel so bad about kicking his butt."

"Perhaps Spicer will realize the futility of his endeavors," Omi added cheerfully.

"Hopefully it doesn't show him how to be a better bad guy," Kimiko muttered as Raimundo came to stand beside her. The moon illuminated the doorway once more, blanketing the cobblestone path in iridescent blue. Omi followed her gaze, blinking at the dreamlike sway of the grass and the trees. Clay tipped the brim of his hat up and looked after the pair.

The leader of the four strode to stand in the doorway, bumping his shoulder against the doorframe and watching as the moon illuminated the frayed edges of the clouds that passed over it. "Huh. I guess we'll find out."


	3. Sunset

Three/Sunset

* * *

Jack Spicer clomped down the stairs, twirling the pendant he'd just acquired around two pale fingers and humming absently to himself. It felt good to be well-equipped. The Jetbootsu were so comfortable and familiar on his feet that he wore them almost everywhere, and he tended to get so used to the Third Arm Sash that, when he'd lose it in a Showdown, it would take a couple days to remember that he couldn't make a sandwich and stir the coffee cup at the other end of the counter at the same time.

And hey: now he had a cool matching necklace.

He inhaled the familiar scent of concrete as he strode up to the entrance of his lair, squeezing one eye shut and bugging the other wide open before the retinal scanner. A beep of granted access preceded the heavy duty door sliding open, and a few Jackbots stopped what they were doing to buzz a "Welcome home, Master Spicer."

"Sup?" He grinned at the nearest robot before strolling to his desk on which he'd left his Shen Gong Wu sprawled in his rush to beat the monks to the newly activated one. The gold and black items glimmered in the low lighting, all but radiating an ancient power. His humming took a particularly upbeat turn as he strolled around his collection, surveying the artifacts with smug pride.

"So many victories and so little time," he drawled, accepting the glass of soda one of his Jackbots whizzed up to him with. After a few gulps and a pleased sigh, he handed the cup back to the robot and turned his attention to the pendant. "They're really losing their edge."

The black-clad genius eyed the small, heavy charm with a suspicious expression. The design on it was intricate and whatever it was made of was obviously pretty dense. He spared another moment to scrutinize it before shrugging, slinging it in his pocket, and heading back upstairs.

The Spicers were on yet another of their week-long business trips, leaving their self-proclaimed evil boy genius to roam the mansion at his leisure. He loathed their formal parties and did everything he could to avoid having to show up - he'd even picked a fight or two with Omi and company just to be out of the house. Having obnoxious, stuffy snobs poking around just overhead annoyed the goth to no end. Particularly when he knew a handful of them were evildoers just mingling with businessmen to try to get information on him and his personal Heylin activities.

Spicer plopped down in front of the enormous flat screen TV, a vanilla pudding cup in hand as he lazily flipped through the channels. He rested his feet on the coffee table, ignoring the screech the Jetbootsu made against the glass.

Eventually he settled on a soap opera he'd seen a couple times when he was home sick from school. It revolved around three best friends - Janine, Kristy, and Lilith - all of whom were absurdly beautiful women with huge, uncomfortable-looking breasts. Janine's husband, Roy, was hiding his high-school fling with Kristy from his wife. Lilith, the sultry brunette of the group, was dating Roy's best friend, Ethan, only to get closer to Janine in hopes of destroying her relationship. (Jack admired Lillith's cunning and found that he liked her best.)

The dusk sky faded from blue to lilac as the huge front-room windows showcased the brilliant, blazing colors of the sunset. Jack grunted and pulled his goggles down to protect his eyes from the offending light. His pudding cup was almost empty and he was starting to want another Cherry Coke. Tired of television, he muted the show and tossed the remote to the opposite end of the couch before tucking his legs under him and feeling around in his pocket for the ice-cold necklace.

It was even more radiant in the waning sun's rays, and Jack pushed his goggles back up to get a better look at it. Even while inactive, the pendant was a touch brighter than any normal jewel. The kind of barely noticeable aura given off by Dashi's weapons was becoming as familiar to Jack as the heaviness that filled the air in his backyard before a storm. He twisted the chain to spin the charm one last time, sending orange prisms of light leaping across the walls of the elegant living room.

"All right, let's see what you can do. Pendant Linghui!"

The necklace flashed a brilliant white-gold, making Jack duck and squint in irritation. He slipped the chain over his neck and waited.

For a long moment the only effect the Shen Gong Wu had on Spicer was to nearly blind him as it thrummed with power against his chest. Jack pouted at it, making a face not unlike that of a very small and very disappointed child. "Hello? Do something already!"

As if on cue a sudden wave of energy knocked him back against the cushions, tearing an inhuman screech from the pale teen's lips.

The chain vibrated against the pale boy's neck at such a frequency that it was all but emitting an audible hum, and the pendant warmed the thin fabric of his shirt, suddenly a comforting weight against his breastbone. Jack gave another feeble squeak before uncovering his eyes and blinking at it.

He suddenly felt…

…different.

As if the Wu had somehow pulled all of the frazzled ends that made up his existence toward the center of his chest, smoothing and gathering them into something that almost … made sense.

"Huh," Jack Spicer muttered aloud. He looked at the TV and then up at the wall behind it.

_Weird_.

He tapped his fingertips absently against the edges of the Pendant Linghui for a long moment before pushing himself off the couch to go get another Cherry Coke.


	4. Award

**Hey, guys!**

**I kind of don't like author's notes. I feel like a story should speak for itself without needing any further explanation. But for y'all, I'll make an excuse. _This_ time. :P**

**I've had tons of hits on this fic, so thank you all for giving me a chance. I particularly wanted to thank the three of you who reviewed. It means a lot that you take time out of your day to tell me you like my writing. Every time I get a review, I grin and flail around like an idiot. XD Even if there's anything you don't like, your criticism means the world to me. I write for myself, but I write for you guys too. I want to give you something to look forward to, so thanks for letting me know what you think!**

**Also, I better get this done before Xiaolin Chronicles premiers. I'm sure I'll be too hysterical with glee to type a single word when it does. o.o If any of you would like to see the prompt list I'm using, note me or review, and I'll send you the link.**

**Without further ado, here's chapter four. I'll do my best to update as often as I can.**

**Again, thanks so much for your support! It means the world to me.**

**-GS**

* * *

Four/Award

* * *

Raimundo gazed at the ceiling, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

Clay gave a violent snort before smacking his lips and rolling over, inducing an involuntary grimace on the Brazilian's face. Sometimes he still wondered how he'd learned to sleep over the cacophony. Omi, meanwhile, could've been in another country, for all Rai knew. The tiny orphan was deathly silent when he slept. And even if he hadn't been, the leader of the four thought, he wouldn't have been able to hear him over the Texan's snoring anyway.

It certainly didn't help that Kimiko's bed was one flimsy room-divider away, either - a realization that always made a kind of nervous, suffocating feeling overtake the Dragon of the Wind.

In all honesty, he had no idea how he got _any_ sleep whatsoever.

Omi was so fixated on his own talents that he was blind to everything around him. Clay was so busy making up stupid metaphors to liken everything to that he sometimes seemed more like a giant target than a Xiaolin fighter. And even though Kimiko was proficient at self-defense and had a temper that could intimidate almost everybody he knew, he felt almost ridiculously protective of her in combat, as if she were his own vulnerability to guard.

In one way or another, Pedrosa felt responsible for all of them.

Since he'd been awarded the title of Shoku Warrior, his feeling of obligation had only grown. Even though Omi had switched alliances once as well, he had only done so out of naïve trust. Raimundo had joined Wuya very much of his own volition. It made him feel … more worldly, almost. Like he knew the enemy better than the others did.

He sometimes wondered if he'd been given his position just to keep him on the Xiaolin side. He certainly _felt_ like it was his job to protect the other three.

_Protect,_ not just lead.

And that authority had made him feel like he had the right to be immature and selfish and to disregard what Omi, Clay and Kimiko thought. The teen squeezed his eyes shut at the concept.

_Stupid_.

Master Fung insisted that they had grown since arriving at the temple almost four years before - why else had he seen fit to allow them to advance through the ranks toward Dragon level? - but in some respects the Brazilian felt like the same petulant kid he had been in the first few months. A few inches taller and a few pounds of muscle sturdier, but as selfish and unable to put good ahead of his own whims as ever.

Raimundo felt the furthest thing from worthy of his title.

Like he was failing them already.

The oldest of the monks rolled onto his side, sighing through his teeth and gazing at the spot where he knew Kimiko's head rested on the other side of the paper-thin wall.

He wished he could confide in her.

There was a brief rustle of fabric that made him jump followed by a heavy exhalation of breath. He wanted to say something - just to tap on the wall to see if she was awake. Instead he tucked his hand under his pillow and chewed on his tongue as he waited for his pulse to return to normal. After half a minute he'd lost the courage to do anything, and after another thirty seconds he wondered whether it had been Kimiko or possibly Omi making the noise.

In another minute he wondered if he'd really heard anything at all.

Clay gave another horrendous, gurgling snort, and how faraway it sounded made Raimundo realize how sleepy he was getting. It would be good to get some rest, he decided, pulling his knees toward his chest and letting the world fade out to fuzzy darkness.

They'd have a lot of work to do tomorrow.


	5. Twilight

Five/Twilight

* * *

The cathedral-ceilinged living room was warm and still, the first wisps of violet creeping into the black of the early morning sky. Several bodies were sprawled across the elaborate furniture; fuzzy-hot and throbbing with not-yet acknowledged headaches and stiff joints and churning stomachs. A woman in a shimmery maroon dress was sprawled across a handmade chair from Turkey and a graying, middle-aged figure in a business suit was slumped over the table, his long fingers splayed in a bowl of crab chowder. The occasional thump sounded from the closet where one of the partners and his secretary had passed out with their limbs in a tangle, knocking several of the coats loose enough for several to have slipped off their hangers during the night, plopping loudly on the floor in the process. The host of the party had managed to wander upstairs and had crawled into bed, his hundred-dollar dress shoes still on his feet, and his wife was splayed across the antique couch (that was _strictly_ for show and _never_ to be sat upon) in the front hall.

A lithe figure slipped amongst the bodies, its steps nearly inaudible against the tile floor as it swiftly darted from person to unconscious person. Long, clawlike nails slipped over backs of necks and the undersides of wrists. A three-stranded pearl necklace slid off of a guest's neck to be cradled gingerly in the intruder's palm. It slipped into the bag slung on her belt, joining three watches, a set of matching crystal bracelets, and one extremely exquisite engagement ring. The thief stepped away from the young accountant to survey the small alcove she hadn't yet gotten the chance to explore. Immediately her luminous eyes fell upon the petite blonde on the red and white loveseat.

More specifically, on the tiny diamond earrings that were just beginning to catch the light of the sunrise.

She had taken one step forward when the noise behind her made her jump.

"Second anniversary present from Dad. Don't take those."

Eyes stretching wide as her heart thumped against her chest, the black-clad girl wheeled around and bared her teeth.

The figure behind her was silhouetted by the pinkish streaks stretching across the sky, lighting his bright red hair on fire. He was clad in a fluffy gray bathrobe and plain black slippers. His arms were crossed casually, and he held a steaming mug in his right hand.

"What are you doing up, brat?"

"Having my morning Awake Tea." The teen tilted his mug toward her in demonstration. "I didn't know you were an employee, Ashley."

"I'm not, _freak_." The cat ears on the blonde's hood seemed to flatten against her skull with her disgust. "I wouldn't wanna go to a drunken melee with a bunch of old people anyway."

"Then why are you here?"

The girl snarled, narrowing her eyes at the pale redhead. "None of your damn business. Why don't you get back to picking up after your mommy and daddy? And what's up with that stupid necklace?"

"They can clean up after themselves," Jack replied with a half-shrug, ignoring the inquiry about his pendant. He turned his back, gazing out the two-story window overlooking the backyard. "Pretty sunrise, huh? Did you know 'twilight' can refer to morning _or_ night? I read that yesterday." When he stepped carefully over a stockholder who was sprawled across the rug and headed toward the opposite end of the room, the blonde sneered at him, her expression half-suspicious and half-insulted. "You can pickpocket anybody you want. Just leave Mom's earrings."

Katnappe watched the goth disappear down the hallway, hissing in outrage when the door to the basement shut behind him. Glancing once more around the dining room, she zipped up her bag and darted toward the open window.

* * *

**I don't like Katnappe. :P**

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews and encouragement. The next chapter will introduce a few characters I'm sure you'll be happy to see...**


	6. Dawn

Six/Dawn

* * *

The sun pierced the thick fog, illuminating the haze surrounding the citadel and turning the smooth stone a milky yellow. A lean jaguar with shimmering fur growled low in its throat and turned away from the light before resting its massive head on its paws, closing its eyes once more.

The silhouette appeared in the doorway only a few moments after he had heard its footfalls.

The figure sauntered down the ancient stone steps, her dress flowing out behind her with the sway of her hips. A dozing lioness cracked an eye open as she padded cautiously past it, and she frowned to herself at the air of suspicion emanating from the cat.

Annoying things.

Pushing the irritation that was her constant surveillance from her mind, the witch strode to stand beside him.

Not moving his eyes from the ripples his slender fingers made in the water, he regarded her. "I'm surprised to see you up this early, Wuya."

The woman's mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. "Having a body that constantly needs recharging takes a while to get used to."

"You'd be surprised," Chase murmured, his graceful hand swirling lazily in the pool. "Having one that never tires is difficult to get used to also."

"I'd like to investigate that for myself." The warlord's eyes flicked to her reflection, his face a careful blank. Wuya smirked flirtatiously and crossed her arms.

"Mind your tongue, witch." There was the faintest glint of humor to his words.

"_Chase,_" she drawled huskily, mimicking a whiny child. "Surely it would be easier to act like a couple if it weren't just a front to intimidate the Xiaolin monks."

"A _couple?_" Feigning indignation, the warrior rose and strode away from the Heylin witch, careful to smile only when his expression was hidden by his coal-black hair.

"Don't tell me you hadn't thought about it." She was on his heel, the sultry grace of her gait almost palpable as she followed a few feet behind. When he strode up a flight of stairs without reply she stopped, her emerald gaze stubbornly confident as it followed the man. "What could be more evil than the union of the witch who was Dashi's only equal and the greatest warrior ever to have lived?"

"If you think you can flatter me by stating the facts, you're wrong." The warlord closed his eyes and folded his hands behind his back which Wuya frowned at. "There is something more pressing at hand."

The beautiful immortal cocked her head to the side. "What could be more important than your love life?"

"A Shen Gong Wu will activate within the hour, and when it does, the balance between Xiaolin and Heylin will shift."

"A Shen Gong Wu? I thought you didn't care about them."

"This one in particular may alter the course of history to an extent that deserves my attention. It may even be the dawning of a great opportunity for whoever claims it." The warlord turned his head slightly toward his companion. "I expect you to remain an observer as the upcoming events unfold."

"But of course, Chase. Whatever you like." Wuya joined him at the top of the steps, sitting on the uppermost one and crossing her long legs in the hazy sunlight. He made a small sound - one that upon reading his expression she identified as amusement - and as he walked off, she couldn't tell whether he was pleased with her or mocking her.

"Ungrateful brat," she growled, leaning back on her elbows and closing her eyes to bask in the soft light of the sunrise.

* * *

**Flirting back? Gross, Chase. Gross.**

**This is totally unrelated, but my mom has only seen most of season 1 of Xiaolin Showdown (she used to watch it with me, but then things got really hectic because she and my dad got divorced.) So when I told her that Chase and Wuya got together at the end of the most recent season, she got really quiet, then went, "EWWW." When I stopped laughing I asked her what was gross about it, and she send, "Wuya's so old ... and for the longest time she was this icky little ghosty thing." XD**

**I find that hilarious.**

**Again, thank you guys for your reviews and encouragement. It means the world to me!**

**-GS**


	7. Key

Seven/Key

* * *

By the time the goth was halfway up the weathered steps of the Mayan Temple, he was almost positive he was getting punk'd.

His Shen Gong Wu detector had gone off in the middle of breakfast (a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich at 1:30 PM) and he had spit his strawberry milk halfway across the living room in terror before realizing what was going on. He almost tripped over the rug as he hopped down the hallway and yanked his pants on, and he tumbled down the stairs with a small shriek and banged into one of his Jackbots at the bottom.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Huh?" The albino scrambled to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. Thanks. I gotta go. If that salesman comes back, vaporize him."

"Yes sir," the robot buzzed.

Jack tossed his helipack over his shoulder, buckling it furiously as he stumbled out the door and down the porch.

A second after he had slammed it, he thrust it open once more and darted back in, red eyes darting across end tables and countertops.

"There you are," he exclaimed, smiling breathlessly. Pale fingers closed around the Pendant Linghui, and the genius slung it around his neck, muttering to himself.

"Jack Spicer: evil boy genius, off to thrash the Xiaolin Losers again!"

The albino slammed the door a second time and hit the ground running, activating his helipack and leaving the mansion behind him.

This was the second Shen Gong Wu the teen had beaten the monks to this week. The last time they'd lost out because they'd been bickering like the spoiled brats they were, giving him all the chance he'd needed to get into the vault with the Changing Chopsticks. He'd wanted to grab more, but after kicking his boots off and stuffing his feet into the Jetbootsu, he swore he heard the stupid talking dragon go by (shouting about the newly active Wu in question, no less) and panicked. He grabbed the Third-Arm Sash before hurrying down to the Ying and Yang Yo-Yos, and as soon as he had them both in his hands, he'd transported into the Ying-Yang World.

That one had been a cakewalk. This one couldn't possibly be.

Blame it on the mystical pendant around his neck, but the goth had a feeling his luck simply wouldn't hold out. He got to the site quickly and brushed off the tour guide who approached him before following his tracker to the site of the Wu (he didn't even waste the time to give the lady one of his "Evil Boy Genius" business cards.) The albino took one look at the decaying temple and heli-packed his way to the entrance near the top.

Despite the almost pitch-black interior of the crumbling structure, the redhead hesitated only to find the flashlight-button on his watch before beginning his hunt for the Wu. The structure audibly groaned beneath his boots as the goth clambered down from the entrance, his eyes sweeping across the bright flecks of peeling paint. How tiny had these people _been?_ he wondered, ducking down into a cramped doorway and glancing at his persistently chirping detector.

"Oh, Shen Gong Wu … where _are_ you?"

Raising his arm to illuminate the chamber, Jack jumped, his eyes going wide with shock.

"It's right here," came the sultry, rasping voice the albino knew all too well.

"Wuya. What an unpleasant surprise."

The Heylin witch quirked an eyebrow, not moving from where her hip was rested against a weathered pedestal. "What, no girly scream? I must be losing my edge."

"I'm surprised Chase gave you permission to leave the fortress without a responsible adult," Jack sneered, looking away in disinterest.

"Mind your tongue, boy."

As she stepped forward, Spicer looked at her once more. "Or what? You'll ask Chase if you're allowed to beat me up?"

With a snarl of outrage, the immortal drew her fist back and snapped it into the teenager's face. When he didn't screech, she cracked a green eye open. Her jaw dropped.

"Looks like you _are_ losing you edge," Jack uttered nonchalantly, his fingers curled around her fist. Pushing it gently back against her chest, he sauntered past her. "Or maybe you didn't _have_ an edge to begin with."

Wuya watched the slender teen approach the pedestal, his flashlight making the heavy, golden cup atop it glimmer and carve slivers of light into the hand-placed bricks around them. "So what is this Wu, anyway?"

"It's the Goblet Anake, and you can't have it."

"Oh yeah?" snickered the pale kid, hitting the button to shut his tracker off and looking over his shoulder toward the witch. "Says who?"

"Says me." Jack jolted when the women's hiss came from beside his ear. He groaned in annoyance, and sure enough, her slender fingers had wrapped around the neck of the Goblet as he'd reached to finger its smooth rim.

"You're creepy."

"And you're acting like less of a little girl than usual. You don't have the flu, do you?"

"No." He waved her hand away when she tried to feel his forehead. "And let go of my Goblet."

"You let go of _my_ Goblet!"

"Nooo!"

"Don't make me call a Showdown."

The redhead grinned at the immortal. "Do it."

"It's your loss, Jack. Let's go: _Xiaolin_- wait. There aren't any good guys here. Should we call it a Heylin Showdown instead?"

"Just hurry it up," the teenager snapped. "I've got places to go and evil to do."

"Fine," the woman muttered. "I wager the Fist of Tebigong against your Third-Arm Sash. The game is to climb to the top of the temple. The winner gets the Goblet Anake."

"Works for me." His fingers tightened around the rim, ruby eyes narrowing in confidence.

"Let's go. _Xiaolin Showdown!_"

The stones beneath the albino's boots began to shudder and growl as cracks through the limestone split, throwing up dust as the small pillar the Goblet sat on jutted violently upward. Wuya leapt backward, strands of bronze hair falling in her face as she knelt and placed a hand on the floor beneath her for balance.

Pinpricks of sunlight split the damp chamber, throwing down a strip of gold that divided the room in half. The rumble grew to a deafening quake as dust rained down from the ceiling and each handmade slab broke apart from its sisters. Spicer dropped into an unsteady crouch as the sky broke though overhead and the temple disintegrated below him, each brick rising into the air and leaving the treetops far below. When the redhead gulped and gripped the edge of the stone he was perched on, Wuya snickered from her spot across the clearing.

As suddenly as the temple had deconstructed, every stone abruptly halted. The witch and the genius turned their attention skyward.

The huge slabs of limestone drifted in dozens of horizontal rings, all encircling the pedestal that hovered almost against the clouds. Something golden winked atop it in the sunlight.

"_Gong yi tampai!_"

The Heylin witch leapt immediately onto the slab of stone drifting past above her, gritting her teeth as she pulled herself onto it.

"That was a really dumb Wu to pick. Third-Arm Sash!"

The clawed end of the Wu wrapped around a stone two tiers above him, giving him the opportunity to leap for it and let the Sash reel him up. Wuya glared as the redhead snickered and catapulted himself a level higher. Her ex-ally leapt again, the Sash twice-wrapping itself around a small, crumbling stone and heaving him upward toward the next-closest one. "How's it feel to get thrashed by the evil genius you dumped?" He grinned down at her before his sash tightened around a stone a dozen feet above him, pulling him quickly up as he reeled the enchanted fabric back around his waist.

"I'm not the one who is going to get 'thrashed,' Jack," the immortal rasped, her emerald eyes flickering to the slab drifting sluggishly toward her. "Fist of Tebigong!"

Jack gaped when the witch slammed her fist into the pale stone beneath her, causing it to disintegrate with a sickening crack, the fragments falling for an endless stretch of time before raining down onto the treetops below. Knocked backward by the force of the impact, Wuya landed gracefully on the brick that had been passing just overhead.

It wasn't until she activated her Shen Gong Wu again that the goth's attention was drawn back to the woman, and as another hailstorm of pebbles pattered down into the forest, she leapt higher, only pausing long enough to sneer at him before resuming her ascent. Spicer groaned to himself, watching as the only block within ten feet of him drifted away, leaving a yawning gap where Wuya had destroyed the next.

Her husky voice was almost inaudible over the wind. "See you later, Jack."

The redhead frowned. "No fair," he whined. "Jetbootsu!"

When the teen rocketed into the air, his boots connecting with the sides of the stones and allowing him to push off in huge leaps, Wuya's smug expression darkened to one of irritation. "Resorting to cheating, are we? Fine by me. Eye of Dashi!"

Spicer let out an ear-splitting screech, thrown backward by the impact of the huge brick shattering. The dark-skinned witch only spared him a smug look before leaping a tier higher, scrambling onto the block as the icy wind whipped her hair against her face. Straightening his legs, the albino let the Jetbootsu halt his descent. Before the goth could gain his bearings he was being bombarded by jets of blinding electricity. His opponent leveled a final blast at his head before slipping the Eye of Dashi back into her sleeve. A particularly hefty chunk of stone was floating toward her, and the Goblet Anake was barely twenty feet above.

With a grunt of panic, the Evil Boy Genius clenched his fists. A sudden pulse of heat made his eyes snap down toward his chest.

The Pendant peeking from inside his leather jacket was glowing softly. As the tail of Wuya's dress disappeared over the side of a chunk of stone, Jack blinked in surprise. "I have an _idea,_" he exclaimed to himself in disbelief. "Me!"

The Heylin witch's eyes glinted with delight as she reached toward the hovering pedestal, the wind whipping her hair against her mouth. She barely heard the teenager's shout over the howl of the air.

"_Yincang Key!_"

A sudden shudder ran through the stone beneath her feet, causing Wuya to hesitate. Looking down for the source of the feeling, she narrowed her eyes in confusion. A small, gold rod was jammed into the side of the slab.

With a _pop_ the brick split almost down the middle. The witch gasped, pulling her foot away from the slender crack just as it shot a finger toward her, the brick shedding a handful of dust that was sucked away by the wind almost immediately. "What's _happening?_"

"Fills in the notches in any kind of lock," Jack quipped, heaving himself onto the brick across from her. "Or in your case, the cracks in that hunk of rock. …That rhymed, didn't it?"

"You _stupid_ boy," Wuya snarled, her eyes going wide with fury as the rock beneath her crumbled. "How _dare_ you!"

"Jack Spicer: Evil Boy Genius," the redhead murmured cheerfully to himself, ignoring the immortal even as the last of the stone beneath her disintegrated and she plummeted toward the treetops. The Third-Arm Sash wrapped around the Key as he ran his pale fingers around the neck of the Goblet. A blinding light enveloped the wiry boy, and he found himself standing on solid ground, the temple intact behind him.

He was too busy letting out his newest evil laugh to see Wuya sneer at him from the forest before disappearing into the shadows.

* * *

**Another author's note? HUARGH. I'M SUCH A CONFORMIST. D:**

**For the first three hours when I sat down to try to write this chapter, I just banged my head on the keyboard and ended up watching Maru videos and DesandNate. What gave me a lot of trouble was figuring out which Wu Wuya should have. At the end of season 3, I'm pretty sure the monks had almost all of them, so assuming this occurs a while later, Wuya has had time to win a few of them back. And when I finally decided on the location of my goblet thingy, I clicked on the Internet to make sure I could accurately describe Mayan ruins and our wi-fi was suddenly down. Stupid scary bad weather. DX**

**Oh! My main question for you guys is about my Shen Gong Wu so far. Do they seem legitimate? Would they fit in with the real ones? I've been agonizing over them because I want them to be realistic.**

**Again, thank you guys so much for reading. The next chapter is almost finished!**

**(Wheeheeheeheehee! This was my first Showdown! XD)**

**-GS**


	8. Concert

Eight/Concert

* * *

Omi blinked, making a face of confusion. He patted the tiny device on his chest, tapped the button on it, and waited patiently.

After a long moment he frowned. "Why is my seating belt not working?"

Raimundo looked over at the Dragon of Water and sighed. "Here, little dude. Let me help."

The smallest Xiaolin monk furrowed his brow in bewilderment as the Brazilian buckled him in. "I do not understand why we could not just take Dojo. This airplane business is _extremely_ vexing."

Clay and Kimiko exchanged bemused looks. "Master Fung said that he didn't trust us not to go after any Shen Gong Wu if Dojo detected them," the Japanese girl explained. "It's okay, Omi. He'll be fine. He's got Master Fung to hang out with."

Omi wiggled his feet, sticking out over the edge of his seat and coming nowhere near touching the ground. "It is shocking that so many people brave this kind of chaos on a regular basis! And it is so costly! Perhaps I should inform them that a dragon would be a wise investment."

"Maybe more people have 'tiger instincts' than you give them credit for." Raimundo grinned as Omi looked up at him in fascination.

"I can't believe that Master Fung was willin' to shell out enough for us to go to New York for a week." The Dragon of Earth leaned out of the way as a hefty woman squeezed past.

"I can't believe he's letting us take a vacation at _all,_" Kimiko replied.

The littlest monk squirmed excitedly in his seat, peering out the window as the plane took off. Raimundo fed him a near constant stream of absurd trivia about flying and the technology involved, and Kimiko fidgeted anxiously, stabbing at the air with one foot while she tapped her fingers on her crossed knees. Clay raised an eyebrow at her beneath his straw-blonde bangs, and knowing that it was glaringly obvious that she had no idea what to do with herself without a piece of technology in her hands, she frowned and crossed her arms, staring out at the darkness. Clay simply chuckled, readjusted his hat, and looked out at the many passengers as they flipped through old magazines and attempted to pacify squirming children.

When the plane leveled out and the pilot announced how many thousands of feet they were above sea level, Omi gaped in awe. "Does the captain of this airship also have telepathic powers? He would be an incredible fighter for the Xiaolin side!" Clay chuckled while Raimundo exclaimed an "I know, right?!"

With a loud, automated bell-chime, the seatbelt light went off. "_Finally,_" Kimiko muttered, pulling her phone out of her pocket to e-mail a friend back in Japan. Raimundo hopped up and beat everyone else to the bathroom, causing an old lady to begin grumbling incessantly as her husband patted her on the shoulder, creaking out halfhearted condolences to shut her up. A flight attendant with a cart of refreshments came around, and when Clay asked for several extra packets of "them tasty little plane peanuts," she gave him a puzzled stare before catching herself and nodding politely. Kimiko rolled her eyes when he grabbed a bag out of the pile, tearing into it with an elated grin on his face.

"These items are most interesting," Omi observed, turning a page in his grimy Sky Mall magazine. "But, I fail to see what they have to do with travel."

"I think it's just a way to try to get people to buy things since there isn't much else to look at on the plane," the Japanese girl explained, launching a cartoon bird on her touch screen and grinning when it hit its target.

"That is a very dishonest tactic," the tiny monk mused, frowning and turning the page. Kimiko only smiled vaguely in response and shifted out of the way as Raimundo clambered back to his seat.

The flight spanned on though several rounds of video games between Omi and Kimiko, another few considerable piles of plane peanuts for Clay, and a particularly long nap for Raimundo, who at one point began to drool on Omi's head (resulting in a minor argument and a temporary silence between the pair.) By the time they had arrived at their destination, everyone had slept at some point and everyone had taken a turn at the newer games Kimiko had downloaded to occupy them during the trip (Clay kept insisting that had the pigs been kept in a properly enclosed pasture in the first place, it wouldn't have been an issue, and Raimundo rolled his eyes on numerous occasions, almost yelling "THAT'S NOT THE POINT.")

The muted roar of the plane's landing gear meeting concrete elicited a sound of amazement from Omi, and as abruptly as their trip had been planned, they had arrived at their destination. Clay heaved their carry-ons onto his shoulders, shyly ignoring the passengers who gaped or pointed at his strength. The captain smiled politely and thanked them for flying, too worn-out to be too confused when Omi tried to solicit a membership to the Xiaolin temple from him. Rai patted him on the head and shrugged, muttering, "Kids…" to which the shorter monk protested vehemently.

The four navigated their way to the baggage terminal to pick up Kimiko's three neon-colored suitcases full of clothes and followed the signs to the pick-up area. They flagged down a taxi big enough to hold them and their luggage, and Kimiko gave the tired-looking cab driver the address. He nodded and pulled out of the parking lot.

By the time the cab maneuvered into an unoccupied parking spot, the sky had been smothered out by infinite stacks of windows and brick, the burning streaks of the sunset replaced by thousands of flashing lights and TV screens. A suited boy not much older than the four raced to open the door for them, helping Clay and Raimundo unload the luggage from the back seat as Omi balanced his tiny suitcase on his head and Kimiko passed the cabdriver her credit card. A few concrete steps and a revolving door misadventure later, the monks had arrived at their destination.

The lobby of the hotel was beautiful.

A series of ornate and delicate chandeliers hung above the main hallway that made the flecks of gold in the tile glisten below their feet. Kimiko gave one of the suited men behind the counter their information, and when a frazzled-looking bellhop took their luggage, he looked extremely surprised to receive a tip of the hat and a thank-you from Clay.

"Oooh! What are these mystical boxes? Are they powered by Shen Gong Wu? Do all of these tiny buttons lead to different destinations?! How do they make the numbers appear in that box?!"

"Easy, chrome-dome," Raimundo teased, putting a hand on the littlest monk's head to stop him from bouncing off the walls. Kimiko glanced sheepishly at the gawking family of tourists clustered on the other side of the elevator.

"You must've done a good deal of travellin' with your daddy," Clay observed as Kimiko led the group to their suite.

"Papa didn't like leaving me with a babysitter," the Japanese girl agreed, sticking her key-card in the slot above the door handle until the light flashed green. "I've been a lot of places with him for business. I loved it."

"Dibs!"

Raimundo shouldered past Kim to dive onto the bed in the middle of the room. Tohomiko sighed in resigned annoyance and led the remaining pair inside.

"I call the other bed," Clay said, smiling under the brim of his hat before Omi could protest. "For Kimiko. A lady should always get her pick of sleepin' arrangements."

"Awww! Thanks, Clay!" The Texan beamed and pulled his hat down over his eyes when the dark-haired girl leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The evening passed in an exhausted blur, channel-surfing and poking through drawers and occasional expeditions down the winding, identical hallways. When Omi refused to stop practicing his tai chi stances, Raimundo found a Jet Li movie for him to watch, and he sat, perched on the end of Kimiko's bed, for the rest of the night. The Brazilian changed into sweatpants (and placed Clay's cowboy hat upside-down on the toilet seat) before curling up on the opposite bed and falling asleep. "Ya didn't think Ah was gonna sleep on the floor, didja?" Clay drawled the minute the brunette was unconscious, crashing down on the bed and throwing an arm around Raimundo.

"Ay ay ay, get _off_, you big homo," Rai shouted, wriggling violently out of the Texan's grip and crashing to the floor as Kimiko and Clay howled with laughter. Omi shushed them, holding up a tiny hand and staring at the exaggerated fight scene onscreen.

By eleven the room was silent.

On the second day the four explored the hotel. Clay ate five plates of toast, bacon, sausage, ham and scrambled eggs while Kimiko flinched and Raimundo provided grossly sarcastic commentary. Kimiko looked up several potential travel sites, but Clay kept eating, Raimundo kept putting salt in Omi's orange juice, and Omi only shrugged. Sighing and shaking her head upon receiving no useful feedback, the dark-haired girl announced that the day would be devoted to walking around and window-shopping. "If you see anything that catches your eye, just say so and we'll check it out." Omi beamed and offered her a thumbs-up and Raimundo crossed his arms on the table and nodded.

"That's includes ladies, right?"

"That includes pizza buffets, right?"

"Clay. Dude. You just ate half the buffet _here_."

"I'll get hungry again _later_, Rai."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the Dragon of Fire got up to pay for their food.

The sky was steel gray overhead, sending long columns of icy wind rushing down the streets. They spent the day peering in shop windows and trying not to stare in curiosity at the hundreds of unusual looking people shouldering past them on sidewalks and stairwells. Raimundo bought a few hilariously bad sci-fi movies at a drugstore, and to Clay's delight, they stopped at a tiny restaurant that served pizza slices three inches thick.

"Hey," muttered Raimundo at one point, elbowing Kimiko gently as the group waited for the string of taxis to part for them to cross the street. "Anything from…?" He half-shrugged, tilting his head to the side. She understood what he meant.

"No. I've sent him a couple e-mails reminding him we're in town, and he didn't answer his phone when I tried calling this morning. But … who knows? Maybe he got a new one and changed his number."

Clay looked away when Omi hung his head and shuffled his feet miserably.

"It's been like two years," Rai murmured, leaning toward Kimiko. "I can't believe he's still mad when _he_ was the one working for Chase."

Her blue eyes flickered away and she pursed her lips silently. The group had had this conversation many a time before. Omi still blamed himself for their falling-out with Jermaine, and though it had happened so long ago that it seemed like a vague memory, the little monk would still startle every time a young black man rounded the corner wearing a basketball jersey.

Late in the afternoon, the three stumbled into a clearing in a scramble to avoid a man in a sportscar who didn't look like he was going to stop at a red light. "Hey, where are we?"

"And why are there so many fat birds?" Omi blinked at a particularly large pigeon as it waddled up to him and fixed its beady eyes on his head.

Kimiko pulled out her phone, tapping the icon for her GPS app with her thumb. "Oh! We're in Bryant Park."

"It's awful purdy," Clay murmured, gazing up at the sparse treetops as they swayed in the cold breeze.

"Don't they have, like, a fashion show here or something?"

"How could they when there are so many overly-friendly birds underfoot?" The smallest Xiaolin dragon was a few feet away, flailing about as a circle of hungry pigeons formed around his feet. Raimundo laughed and shrugged at him.

"They probably think you're an oversized bread crumb with legs."

The Texan stared at his best friend. "That insult doesn't even make sense."

"Wait." Omi's eyes widened as Kimiko helped him shoo birds away. "You were insulting me?"

The brunette deadpanned. "Uhhh … hey, look!"

The other three turned to see what the Brazilian was pointing at.

There was a small congregation of people forming on the opposite side of the park, gathered around a small group of children clad in black. There was a sudden drop in the amount of sound crashing around them - a collective intake of breath - and a high, clear note rang out, filling the grass-covered space between the towering buildings.

"Their singing is marvelous," Omi observed quietly, their voices moving up and down in pitch, breaking into beautiful, complex chords and coming together again on other syllables. A little girl bounced her stuffed dog across the grass as her mother rested a hand on her head, transfixed. A pair of young women with their hands interlocked sauntered up to stand beside them.

"What is it? Some kind of choir concert or something?"

Clay shrugged. "Maybe they're from the same church or school," Kim offered.

As the small group listened from across the park, more people gathered to watch until there was a crescent-moon of spectators standing in the shadows of the trees. Kimiko almost jumped when she felt a hand clasp hers, and she elbowed the Brazilian in the side before jerking her arm away. "Let's get moving," she announced softly, leading the way toward the sidewalk. She rubbed the side of her neck to shield the boys from the small smile she couldn't quite will away.

When it began to darken and the massive rivers of tourists and businessmen thickened rapidly, the four turned back toward their hotel. Every few minutes the Japanese girl would pull her phone out of her pocket to make sure they hadn't passed their road, and the little bright-pink neon blip continued to hop closer and closer to their destination. They all but dragged themselves into the lobby, and there was an exhausted but satisfied silence hanging above them in the elevator.

Raimundo collapsed onto his bed as Kimiko did onto hers, and the Brazilian was soon accompanied by a pajama-clad Omi who fell quickly asleep against his chest. The brunette caught Kimiko smiling affectionately at the sight and he looked quickly away, grinning sheepishly. Clay came in with a half-eaten steak burger hanging out of his mouth, the smell of the hotel's food clinging to him as he sauntered past Kimiko's bed to flop onto the couch. She grimaced involuntarily as she poked at her PDA screen with a stylus and earned a snort from the blonde. Rai reached carefully over Omi to shut the lamp off.

The only light for the next thirty minutes was the screen of Kimiko's phone, and when it went out, the only sound to be heard was the rumble of the cars rushing by on the street below.

* * *

**There is literally NO excuse for how long it took me to write this chapter. I was completely dreading every part of it, I just discovered and lost a large portion of my soul to Motorcity, went on a six day vacation, got obsessed with playing Slender, had to rid my brain of the trauma of playing Slender, and bought Minecraft ... so between those things, I found plenty of ways to procrastinate. :y**

**One of the main things I'm trying to learn to do is writing every day, whether I feel like it or not. I've noticed that when I take more than a day or two off from writing a particular story, I just fall out of the swing of things and feel like I have to re-acquaint myself with the plot. I think that's how authors end up not knowing how the heck to update their old fics.**

**Oh! Another thing you might be interested in: Ch4ckSl4sher and CrystallicSky ran across some of my Xiaolin Showdown drawings on deviantART and they both really liked them. It was a huge moment for me and I am completely honored, because their Heylin fics are extremely good. Hooray!**

**The next chapter shouldn't be this long ... at least I hope it isn't, or it might take me another month to write. Ha. Ha ha. I know, that wasn't funny.**

**Sorry.**


	9. Teeth

Nine/Teeth

* * *

A dozing jaguar cracked open a yellow-ringed eye as the witch's feet met stone, her dress fluttering behind her lithe form as she sauntered into the fortress. It observed her for a moment before losing interest and turning his head away.

She found him in his massive dining room, preceded by a table full of ripe, succulent fruits and vegetables, thick cuts of lamb, and an ancient, beautiful pot of steaming tea. It didn't surprise her that the only thing he seemed to have touched was the small cup of soup in his gloved hands (the contents of which she'd probably met in battle sometime in the past thousand years.)

"Why, hello, Wuya." His eyelashes obscured his gaze as a rogue swirl of steam twisted its way past his face and into his ebony hair.

"Chase." She leaned her weight onto her palm, resting her hip against the table. "How are you this fine afternoon?"

"I'm all right, I suppose." His thin smile disappeared completely. "I've been better."

"Oh?"

The witch shifted her weight, blinking her stormy green eyes at the tai chi master. "What could possibly be troubling you?"

"I am not troubled so much as mildly insulted." Chase sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. He laid one arm across his chest and waited.

The sudden change in her posture was so slight that an untrained individual hardly would've noticed it. Drumming her clawlike nails on the edge of the table, Wuya forced herself to breathe evenly. "It isn't Jack, is it?"

"I haven't been visited by Spicer in weeks, as a matter of fact."

"Oh," she responded bluntly. The witch relaxed, tilting her head back and blinking at the warrior. The lioness lounging at his side switched its tail idly.

"It puzzles me that you're so relieved. The boy is an insect, not a threat. Why were you so worried that he had paid me a visit?"

"Worried? I wasn't _worried_. Jack is an irritating little brat - like you said yourself!" She offered a grin that showed her daggerlike canines, her expression not as confident as she had hoped to make it.

Chase placed the hand he had been resting his chin against in his lap. Dusky golden eyes burned into Wuya's as his voice hardened. "Perhaps it is because you feared that Spicer would tell me about your latest attempt to acquire a Shen Gong Wu."

"Why, Chase!" She laughed harshly, cocking her head back a bit too far to look flippant but not quite enough to look genuinely amused. "How could you say such a thing?"

"If my accusation is false, then have you been all afternoon? Out getting your _nails_ done?"

Her sheepish grin was just a beat too late. "H-how did you know?"

Young rose from his seat to cross the room, his arms folded neatly in the small of his back. When he made no move to speak, Wuya hurried after him.

"E-even if I had gone looking for a Shen-Gong-Wu, just one wouldn't give me the power to defeat you. Besides - we make a good team, you and I!"

"You have deceived me one time too many, witch."

The immortal's eyes widened and she stumbled to a halt, the slap of her bare foot against the stone echoing in the silence. "Chase - think about what you're saying-"

"I _have_," the warlord sneered, his lip curling enough to show the edges of several teeth. "I have thought about it every time you've mustered the combination of audacity and idiocy required to betray me throughout the past five years."

A bark of laughter accompanied the hand Wuya flattened to her chest. "Surely you don't _mean_ that."

"Get out of my fortress before I have my cats escort you out."

The witch closed her mouth and remained silent for a long moment. Young's golden gaze flicked up to hold hers, meeting scorn with a final, silent warning.

"Very well."

Wuya turned away, her hair swishing with the movement. The tattered tail of her robe lapped at her ankles like black flame. "I will leave you, Chase. But when you regret your decision, don't anticipate me being agreeable."

The warrior's stare was hawklike until she was out of his sight. A lean tiger padded up to him, weighing its master's thoughts with intelligent eyes. Chase ran a hand across its broad skull.

Sniffing with amusement, he turned and strode back toward the palace.


End file.
